


The First Date

by queerleader (autolatry)



Series: Failed Dates 'Verse [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Date, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Protective Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6381607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autolatry/pseuds/queerleader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That time Stiles and Derek's first date was ruined because Derek took a bitch out. </p><p>OR</p><p>'I got in a fist fight with the waiter who insulted you and now we are both banned from this restaurant.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Date

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [these](http://onetruepairingideas.tumblr.com/post/136785066244/date-gone-wrong-prompts) prompts. I think they're cute as fuck.

"I'm not saying you overreacted, man, but you totally overreacted."

Derek sat on the pavement outside of _Maria's Italian_ , his cold eyes fixed on his knuckles where the skin was beginning to heal over. It had been grazed and bloodied just moments ago when Derek's fist had connected with the nose of one of the employees back in the restaurant. Stiles was perched beside him, knees bent and legs spread with his hands clasped and dangling in the space between each thigh.

He flexed his hand, rolling his fingers one by one, testing them out before he turned to the boy beside him. Stiles looked stunning. He had worn a new black fitted shirt and rolled his sleeves to his elbows while his maroon jeans hugged him almost sinfully. The dark colours contrasted with his skin, drawing attention to the moles that speckled his jaw and the smudge of mascara that Derek suspected Lydia had talked Stiles into wearing. The boy was beautiful. Utterly, irrevocably beautiful.

A wave of guilt crashed into Derek and he dropped his eyes to the road below, suddenly unable to look Stiles in the eye. He didn't feel bad about the waiter. That dick deserved what he got and Derek hoped grimly that the bastard's nose was broken. No, the cold hands of regret weren't clawing at Derek's throat because of some pervert. He felt bad because Stiles had been so damn excited for tonight. He hadn't told Derek directly but the tangy mixed scent of nerves and enthusiasm along with the sweet, happy aroma of honey and freshly cut grass had given Stiles away instantly.

And Derek had gone and fucked it up.

He hadn't meant to. He had tried to look the other way. Stiles was animatedly telling Derek about a course he was thinking about taking at college, his limbs wildly flying around the table as he spoke. Derek had tried to focus on that.

The problem with werewolf hearing is that even though the waiter was out of Stiles' earshot while he crudely discussed what he thought Stiles was like in the bedroom to his snorting co-worker, Derek could hear him loud and clear. The words were degrading and cruel and dangerously bordering on the homophobic. And all of it was directed at Stiles. Suddenly everything went red.

"I'm sorry," Derek grunted, trying to disguise the lump in his throat. "I didn't mean to get us banned."

Stiles shrugged a broad shoulder. He smirked and tilted his head toward Derek. "It's fine. There are other Italian restaurants. But," Derek flinched involuntarily, though calmed visibly when two cold fingers and a thumb grasped his chin gently. He allowed himself to be turned and couldn't help but smile at the spark in Stiles' amber eyes. "I can fight my own battles, Hale. Next time someone's talking shit about me, tell me and I'll beat them to death with my garlic baguette."

Derek just nodded and leant into the hand that was moving surely up his cheek. Stiles' thumb stroked along Derek's jaw and the werewolf fluttered his lids closed. The warm, inviting press of the boy's full lips against Derek's own made his chest tighten in the best possible way. It was short and sweet and a promise of more. Stiles was so close that Derek felt his smile against his skin as he whispered, "Thanks for sticking up for me, though. It was all kinds of hot. But we should probably flee the scene before my dad shops us for assault."

It had gotten colder out and the streets had slowly started to empty. Derek got to his feet and pulled Stiles up with him. It felt natural to curl an arm around Stiles' waist and press him snugly to his side as they walked back in the direction of Derek's car. "I promised your dad I'd stay away from criminal activity tonight. What's the chance he'll let me take you out on a second date?"

Stiles grinned and bumped his hip against Derek's. "There's going to be a second date?"

An unnecessary blush pinkened the tips of Derek's ears and he resisted the urge to scowl at his body's betrayal. He bumped his hip back and nodded. "I promise not to hit anyone next time."

"Good," Drawling, Stiles spun on his heels until he was gripping the front of Derek's shirt in two tight fists, smiling wickedly. "And don't worry about my dad. I'm a grown man and he doesn't dictate which criminals I date, or else he'll meet with a garlicky death too."

Then Stiles' lips met Derek's again, hard and demanding and as perfect as the rest of him.


End file.
